


A Dalish beginning

by Megan140



Series: A Dalish Tale [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action/Adventure, First m/m, I'll add more as I think of them, M/M, Novelization, between quests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-25 21:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6210370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megan140/pseuds/Megan140
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theron Mahariel was content living in the forest with his clan and trying to keep his best friend out of trouble until a tragic incident with an ancient elven artifact forced him to leave his clan and everything he knew to fight against monsters he never even heard of to save a world that sees him as a savage knife ear.<br/>He knows that despite everything he will succeed, because he doesn't have a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By the Dread Wolf!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Tamlen come across trouble

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age. If I did, Dragon Age 2 would have been VERY different

       Tamlen leaned against the trunk of a tree far above the ground, it was his turn to be a lookout. The clan was far enough in that Shemlen didn't usually bother coming this deep so he stood there, bored. Still, there he sat, watching his area, no rotten Shem would sneak past him. He glanced over when he heard a branch shift next to him to see his childhood friend, Theron. "Aren't you training with Master Varathorn today?" Tamlen commented. It was no secret that the darker haired elf had talent when it came to working with Ironbark. Theron shrugged and tucked a strand of black hair that had fallen from his tie. It was also no secret that Theron detested staying in camp and wood working all day. Tamlen laughed, "the Keeper is going to yell at you again."  
"True," he smirked, “but we both know that that won't stop me." The dark-haired hunter’s smile fell and he took on a look of concentration that he got when he was "listening." The blonde elf had asked him in the past what that meant but all he ever got was a knowing smile and a reply of "it means I listen." Theron had been able to tell since childhood where a good spot to camp was and if danger was close. The elves hopped to another branch without a sound with their bows drawn. They hovered near a tiny clearing somewhat near where the clan campsite. Theron pointed at the three humans enter the clearing a little way from their hiding spot in the trees.  
"Shems," Tamlen hissed and jumped from his branch to land in front of the trio. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.  
"Dalish!" One cried out and they turned to scurry away only to see Theron standing behind them with his bow drawn.  
Tamlen walked closer with his bow drawn as well. "Just in time, Lethallin."  
"Please!" Another human pleaded, "we didn't know this forest was yours!"  
"This forest isn't ours, you just stumbled too close to our camp," Tamlen hissed his disgust. Humans; they think everything must belong to someone.  
The third human had gotten over his fear enough to answer the two elves. "We were exploring some ruins nearby," he stammered.  
"You lie," Tamlen scowled, "there are no ruins near here!"  
"There are!" The third defended, "a landslide exposed it. Here, we took this from the ruins!" The Shemlen held out the small medallion he had been clutching.  
"So not intruders but thieves," the blonde Elf drawled and took the artifact. "Is this Elvish? Written Elvish?"  
Theron walked around to look at the item. "Where are these ruins?" He would question his friend's ability to recognize written Elvish letters.  
"Just south of here," one of the human's answered; by the Dread Wolf! Why did all Shems look alike?  
Tamlen glanced over at his friend. "Well, what do you think we should do with these Shemlen?"  
Theron studied the three in front of him a moment longer before shouldering his bow. "Killing them would anger the rest of their village," he answered, "no reason to bring attention to the clan."  
The blonde hunter nodded and lowered bow. "Leave, and do not return until we Dalish have moved on," he commanded.  
"Yes, ser!" The three humans tripped over each other getting away.  
"Well, time to see these ruins," Tamlen started heading in the direction of the ruins.  
"Wait, Lethallin, shouldn't we tell the Keeper?" Theron hesitated. Not only were they exploring dangerous ruins, but Tamlen was abandoning his post  
"What if we do and there is nothing there? If there is something, we'll go back and get the Keeper. If not, we didn't waste her time." Tamlen continued walking and could hear Theron's irritated sigh as he followed.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
      They were close to the ruins when they came across a mutilated Halla corpse. The two hunters knelt to inspect the body. Neither of them had ever seen a body mauled like this before and it made the two of them a bit ill. Tamlen was the first to break the silence, "what do you suppose did this?"  
Theron shook his head, "something I hope we never meet. Not even Shemlen maim bodies like this." The dark-haired hunter became quiet and Tamlen recognized he was "listening."  
"What is it, Lethallin?" He asked.  
"This is an omen. We should turn around and get the Keeper."  
Tamlen chuckled, "your nerves are getting the better of you, Lethallin." He knew this wasn't the case. Not with Theron but something in him couldn't turn back. Something was pulling him to the ruins and he couldn't ignore it. The blonde pushed on and Theron followed, grumbling the entire way.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
     The two hunters were very near the entrance when they saw…it. Some twisted creature that had no place in this world. One look at the monstrosity had Tamlen rooted to the spot in terror and disgust.  
Theron was in no such shock and immediately began firing arrows at the creature. "Bad omen!" He hissed, "what did I tell you!" The dark-haired elf turned to his companion to see him still frozen. He looked back to see the thing getting close with another one joining it. "Tamlen, Elgar'nan as my witness, I will give you to the Dread Wolf myself if you don't SNAP OUT OF IT!"  
Theron yelling was enough to snap Tamlen from his stupor and to fire arrows that the atrocities. Theron muttered a curse under his breath as he reached into a pouch and rubbed the green paste on the arrowhead. The poisoned arrow struck one of the horrors in the shoulder; the thing let out a screech and fell dead.  
The other glanced at its fallen companion and turned its attention to Theron. Tamlen saw its attention shift and called to it to get to focus on him instead of the other hunter. He shouldered his bow, pulled out his dagger, and rushed towards the creature. "Me!" Tamlen slashed the thing's arm and the creature returned its attention to him.  
Theron took the opportunity to coat another arrowhead and fired. It hit the creature in the eye and it was dead before it hit the ground. "That was foolish, Lethallin," he scolded as he examined the nearest corpse.  
"We both know that I'm better with daggers than you." Tamlen walked over to look at the corpse and at once emptied his stomach. "By the Dread Wolf!" He gasped.  
Theron pulled an arrow out and inspected. He could smell something wrong with the blood even if he did not know what that something was. "Best we leave these arrows, Lethallin, I don't trust the blood."  
"It's just blood, Lethallin," Tamlen argued and pulled an arrow loose as well.  
The dark-haired elf shook his head, "you have been ignoring me about the ruins, and I won't let you ignore me about this." Tamlen sighed and tossed the arrow aside. He knew he was reaching the limit of how far he could push his oldest friend. The two hunters proceeded to collect the few arrows not imbedded in the monsters.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
      The two continued through the ruins, killing any walking corpses or monsters they found. Once they came across something that looked like a bear but didn't fight like one. Theron had a nice sized gash on his leg that protested whenever he put too much weight on the limb. They entered a large circular room with a strange looking mirror in the middle. "What is that?" Tamlen walked closer while Theron limped a little way behind him.  
"Careful, Lethallin," Theron warned, "something isn't right with that." Tamlen of course ignored him.  
The blonde hunter walked closer, "it's showing me something, a city." Theron limped a little closer but stopped at the base of the steps not willing to risk falling. "Help!" Tamlen shouted, "it's seen me! I can't look away!" Theron's foot was about to land on the first step when a bright light filled his vision.  
-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
     Theron stumbled through the ruins, unaware of his injured leg or where he was. It was sheer luck that he found the entrance at all. He could make out the outline of someone in his fevered and disoriented state. "Tamlen?" He staggered closer to the figure and collapsed at his feet.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
      Duncan knelt to look at the ashen Elf. "I'm so sorry," he apologized; he recognized the Taint when he saw it. The Elf murmured something unintelligible not aware of what was going on. The Grey Warden scooped up the tainted Elf and walked toward camp he had planned to visit.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
Two unimpressed hunters stopped the Warden with their bows drawn and trained on him. "Hold there, Shem!" One ordered.  
"I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens. I found one your clan unconscious in the forest," the Commander explained.  
One of the hunters walked closer to look at the limp elf still muttering nonsense. "By the Dread Wolf!" She cried out in surprise and horror, "Theron!" The huntress turned to her companion, "hurry, go fetch the Keeper!" The other elf bolted at a speed only Elves could reach. "We must bring him to the Keeper's tent, this way," she guided the Warden to Marethari's tent. Duncan lowered the sick Elf on a cot and stepped back to let the clan fuss over their injured member. If they managed to heal the Elf enough for him to wake, Duncan could have the very thing he came into this forest to get.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
     It had been over a day and the sickness in Theron was still spreading. He had woken up once screaming about "the singing." Marethari cast a spell to make him sleep. The Keeper had her First sit with him while she walked through the woods to gather more herbs. That was what she told Merrill. "Asha'bellanar," Marethari called out. She knew the witch would hear her and held her breath as an old woman with hair shaped like horns appeared. The Elf took a steadying breath. She knew the price for asking for Asha'bellanar's help. But there was nothing she wouldn't do to aid a member of her clan. "One of my clan's members is very ill and nothing can even seem to slow it," she began, "I humbly ask for your help."  
A wave of the old woman's hand and the two were beside the ailing hunter with Merrill fast asleep. No doubt the witch's doing. The old woman touched Theron whose eyes snapped open and he began shouting again about "the song." Asha'bellanar muttered something under her breath and once more he was asleep. She placed one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest and began chanting in Elvish. Theron's sun-tanned skin replaced the tainted skin and he seemed to breathe easier. "He has been tainted," she explained, "I have pushed the Taint back but I cannot cure him."  
Marethari's heart fell into her stomach. "Is there nothing that can be done?" She asked, "there must be something."  
The witch nodded, "the only way to cure him is for him to join the Grey Wardens. He will have to leave the clan, but he will live." She waved her hand and they were once more in the forest.  
"Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar," Marethari thanked the witch. But her mind and heart were heavy at the thought of Theron's future.  
"Do not forget, Marethari, you now owe me a favour," the witch reminded and disappeared.  
The Keeper walked back to camp to have Merrill rush over to her as soon as she entered the tent. "Oh, Keeper! It's a miracle! The old magic worked! Theron looks much better now!"  
Marethari gave her a tired smile, "of course it did, Da'len. You may go rest now. I doubt Theron needs us watching over him all the time now." Merril nodded and left to go get some rest. The Keeper stared at the sleeping hunter in sorrow. She was not looking forward to trying to convince the stubborn hunter that it in his best interest to leave. "Oh, Da'len, you have caught the Dread Wolf's gaze."


	2. Endure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron's first lucid encounter with Duncan

Disclaimer: I still don’t own Dragon Age but I’ll put this so EA Games doesn’t feel the need to pull a Disney!

      Theron woke a couple days later, unsure where he was or how he got there. He sat up and realized he was inside the Keeper’s tent, confused and disoriented, he walked out to find Tamlen. The elf was unsure why it was so important to find his oldest friend but he was not about to argue with his instincts. “Theron!” A nearby voice called with surprise and relief when he stepped of the tent.  
      “Fenarel?” He asked in confusion as his friend gave him a bear hug. The hunter grunted in pain at the hug and was surprised that that hurt.  
      Fenarel let him go at the grunt and stepped back. “Sorry, Lethallin, I’m just happy to see you well.”  
      Theron stared at his friend. “’That I’m well?’ What happened to me? Where’s Tamlen? Why was I in the Keeper’s tent?”  
      The other hunter gave him a quizzical look. “You don’t remember? A Shem calling himself a Grey Warden carried you back here unconscious. The Keeper has been using the old magic to heal you. As for Tamlen, we were hoping you tell us. No one has seen him in days.”  
      Everything suddenly came rushing back and it sent the unsteady hunter reeling. “Keeper Marethari, where is she? I need to speak with her!”  
      “She’s over there talking with the Shem that brought you here. She wanted to talk to you when you woke up.” Fenarel pointed in the direction and Theron walked off in the direction his friend indicated and waited patiently for the Keeper to finish her conversation. He studied the human closely as he waited; the man was better built than the Shemlen he had come across days ago. He tried to listen to the world around him but was surprised he couldn’t hear anything other than the noises around camp. The hunter was terrified to learn that he couldn’t hear the other worldly whispers he was so used to but could almost hear…something but couldn’t quite make out what it was. This is how everyone else hears he thought.  
      “You have someone to see you,” Duncan informed the Keeper.  
      Marethari turned and looked at Theron. “It is good to see you up, Da’len. This is Duncan of the Grey Wardens,” she caught his look and added, “he is here as my guest.”  
      Theron smoothed his irritation and nodded at the human, “andaran atish’an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens.” If Duncan noticed the slight bite to his tone, he didn’t comment on it.  
      “We will speak later,” Duncan excused himself and the Keeper turned her full attention to the hunter.  
      “What happened, Da’len?” She asked.  
      “We had come across some Shem in the forest,” he started.  
      “Yes, I know about that. The village is not pleased, we will have to move on,” the Keeper scolded.  
      Theron looked down but continued on. “They told us how they discovered elven ruins uncovered by a landslide. We left to investigate and came across these…monsters and a mirror. Tamlen moved closer to inspect the mirror and everything went white.”  
      “Tamlen still has not been found. I want you to take Merrill to these ruins and look for Tamlen,” Marethari ordered. She remembered what Asha’bellanar had told her. “Are you well enough to do this?” Theron nodded and left to go find Merrill.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
      Fenarel had been listening to the conversation and approached his friend when the Keeper was no longer in earshot. “If you’re off to look for Tamlen, I’m coming as well, he’s my friend too.” Fenarel was worried for a second that Theron would say no but the other elf nodded.  
      “Merrill asks, the Keeper let you come,” he advised. The other hunter did not like going behind the Keeper’s back but he would help find his friend.  
      The two appeared the Keeper’s First who did not look impressed. “The Keeper said it would be the two of us,” she stated.  
      Theron shrugged and looked her dead in the eye and lied, “I asked the Keeper if he could come and she said yes.” Fenarel nodded beside him, not trusting his voice not to squeak.  
      “Very well, let’s go,” Merrill didn’t bother to question the two further.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
      The three of them had gotten to approximately the same place where Theron and Tamlen were when they were first attacked when they were attacked by the monsters again. “Mother’s mercy!(1) What are those?!” Fenarel gasped.  
      “Hard to kill,” Theron answered and rubbed an arrowhead in poison. The other hunter followed suit and between the three of them, they made short work of their enemies.  
      Merrill and Fenarel had started walking and realized that Theron was not following. She turned to see the elf bracing himself against a tree trying to catch his breath. The mage walked over and noticed he was pale, not as pale as we was when the Grey Warden carried him to the camp but still paler than he should have. “Are you alright?” She asked.  
      Theron pushed himself off the tree and forced his breathing to slow down. “Just needed to catch my breath,” he answered and led the way. Merrill and Fenarel shared a look; Theron did not usually tire that easily. It was fortunate that they didn’t run into anymore live monsters in the ruins because neither Fenarel or Merrill were sure Theron would be able to hold his own and it was a frightening thought for both of them.  
      The three of them had combed the ruins looking for Tamlen but no sign of him was found. They entered the circular room and Theron glared hatefully at the mirror. “This is where it happened,” he explained and sat down on a step with a weary huff still looking quite pale. Merrill walked over to touch it only to have Theron snatch her by the wrist tightly. “Don’t touch it!” He hissed.  
      The First was taken aback by the heat of his hand and the ferocity in his eyes and grip. She held up the other hand in surrender, “alright, Theron, I won’t.” The tainted hunter didn’t let go and Merrill could see that not all of him was there, his eyes were distant and his grip tightening. “Theron, let go. You’re hurting me,” she gave her arm a tug and Theron seemed to snap back into himself and released her so quickly it was as though she burned him.  
      “Ir abelas(2),” he muttered and turned away.  
      Tel’telsila mar’lin(3),” Merrill smiled and turned her attention back to the mirror.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
      Duncan had watched the exchange and was close to intervening when Theron seemed to remember himself and let the mage go. He decided now was as good a time as any to announce his presence. “It’s called an Eluvian,” he explained, “over time they can become corrupted by Darkspawn.”  
      “Darkspawn?” Fenarel questioned.  
      “The monsters you encountered. I’m afraid once one of these Eluvians becomes corrupted, the only thing you can do is destroy it.”  
      “What? But we could learn so much from it!” Merrill protested.  
      “It also killed Tamlen,” Theron argued, “I’m standing with the Shem on this. Nothing is worth the lives of clan members.”  
      The mage turned to Fenarel who was silent. “Fenarel, tell them!”  
      The other hunter shook his head, “no, Merril, we both saw how Theron suffered because of this Eluvian. Fen’Harel ma ghilana(4), Merrill; the price for its lessons is too high.”  
      Duncan raised his sword to the artifact and Merrill stepped forward as though she would stop him but did nothing. The sword struck its mark and the mirror shattered. “It is done,” he sighed and looked at Theron who was glaring at the shards. “If that is all, I believe we should all leave,” he suggested.  
      Theron shook his head and turned his attention to the Grey Warden, “we’re looking for a clan mate.”  
      Merrill laid a hand on his shoulder and sighed, “we have looked everywhere we could have. Tamlen is not here, we have no choice but to leave.”  
      “No!” Theron tore away from the mage violently, “I won’t leave until I find Tamlen. You can go if you like but I won’t rest until I find him.”  
      Fenarel walked over, “we’ve lost Tamlen, don’t make us lose you as well.”  
      “Besides, you are not well,” the human added, “whether you know it or not. I suspect you do, however.”  
      “That’s ridiculous!” Fenarel protested, “the Keeper healed him!”  
      “That’s right, she used the old magic to make him well,” Merrill argued, both ignore Theron’s fatigue, short temper, and paling skin.  
      Theron said nothing right away as he looked inside himself and debated internally. “Perhaps there is some merit to what you say,” he relented, “alright, let’s go back and tell the Keeper what we found.”  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
      Marethari had been informed and the three elves dispersed as she spoke again with Duncan. “Are you sure there is no other way?” She asked in the vain hope that Asha’bellanar had been wrong.  
      “There is no other way. The only way to save him is for Theron to become a Grey Warden,” Duncan answered.  
      The elderly elf sighed and the two walked over to one of the fires where Theron was grudgingly allowing Ashalle to fuss over him. “You should have not pushed yourself like you did,” she scolded and looked up at the sound of footsteps.  
      “Ashalle, we much speak with Theron,” Marethari informed and the hunter stood up to follow them. “We must speak to you about a cure,” she stated when they were at her tent.  
      “My cure, Keeper?” Theron repeated.  
      “Yes, to remove the sickness from you completely, you must leave with Duncan to become a Grey Warden,” she closed her eyes as she saw him puff up for an argument.  
      “I will not leave the clan,” he declared, “I would rather die among loves ones than live among strangers.”  
      “We could not watch you waste away when there was a chance for you to live,” her eyes were glittering in unshed tears.  
      Theron paused at that but shook his head all the same, “I will not leave.”  
      Marethari was about to speak but Duncan stopped her. “The Grey Wardens fight against Darkspawn, the creatures you encountered earlier. The fact that they are here means a Blight is approaching. I need recruits to fight,” he informed, “if the Blight is not stopped, all will be in danger, including your clan. Could you really standby and do nothing when you could save them even if it meant possibly never seeing them again?” He knew it was an underhanded tactic but the elf didn’t have the time for him to convince him any other way.  
      Apparently Theron thought it to be underhanded a well judging by the glare but nodded. “Very well, I want at least today to say goodbye to my clan.”  
      Duncan nodded, “we will leave first thing in the morning.”  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
      News had spread quickly that Theron would be leaving the clan to save his live and everyone had gathered around one large fire to spend one last night with their clan mate. Ilen was one of the first to approach after everyone had eaten. The craftsman was holding a bow in his hand. “This bow always brought me luck,” he started, “I would like you to have it.”  
      Theron took the bow and studied the master craftsmanship of the weapon. “Ma serannas, Hahren Ilen,” he thanked laid the bow on his lap; he would pack it amongst his things before he went to sleep. Other members of the clan came forward and gave gifts to the hunter, he would wear the necklace the children made with pride.  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
      Sunrise came all too soon for the elf. He grabbed the bag made from the skin of the first stag he took down by himself packed with everything he thought he would need. Leaving his tent he saw Ashalle standing there with a pendant. “This was your mother’s, I think you should have it,” tears were threatening to spill over.  
      “Oh, Ashalle,” he slipped the pendant around his neck so it hung next to the necklace the children made and stepped back into his tent for a moment; he came back out with his old bow, he wouldn’t be needing it since he was taking the bow Master Ilen gave to him with him. “Here, take this, and never forget that I love you,” he held out the weapon for the woman who raised him to take.  
      She lunged forward and held him tight, “I will miss you.” He could feel her tears making his leather armour damp.  
      The whole of the clan stood near the enterance of the camp. “Come, Da’len, let the clan embrace you one last time,” the Keeper held out her hand and Theron took it. Soon all of the members of the small clan had a hand on his arms or shoulders.  
      “We have to go,” Duncan informed, loathe to interrupt the moment.  
      Theron nodded and pulled away from the group. He started walking but stopped at the edge of the camp and studied each of them to burn their faces into his memory. “Mala suledin nadas(5),” he muttered to himself and turned to follow the Grey Warden once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1)Mythal’s name is also the All-mother. It seemed like something they would say  
> (2)Elven for “I am sorry”  
> (3)After digging around I discovered a bunch of phrases. This means “do not worry yourself” so I’m using it as a way for Merrill to say she forgives Theron  
> (4)“Dread Wolf guides you.” Fenarel is saying not destroying the Eluvian is a bad idea  
> (5)“Now you must endure”


	3. Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Duncan make it to Ostagar and Theron meets Alistair for the first time, good thing Alistair is so easy going.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to the Dragon Age series and if you ask me, neither should EA

 

        They had only been walking for half a day and it was clear the elf was tiring, Duncan had tried several times to get Theron to stop andtake a break but thehunter seemed determined to run himself into the ground. The Grey Warden was secretly impressed that Theron had made it as far as he did; the Taint had taken larger men than himself in much shorter time than the stubborn hunter. “Let us stop for lunch,” he suggested/commanded. The grumpy elf simply scowled at him and kept walking. The Commander frowned, he knew the Taint was making Theron irritable and to leave his clan and the only world he ever knew was not helping, but he would have to learn to obey his superiors. “Ostagar is another day’s walk, it won’t slow us to sit and stop,” he tried again.  
        “Then you stop, Shemlen,” he hissed. Duncan was about to push the issue when the normally agile elf tripped over a stone and fell. The hunter cursed in Elvish and stood up looking irritated and embarrassed at the same time. “A short break,” he grumbled.  
        “Agreed,” the Grey Warden nodded and the two stopped at the side of the road for a meager lunch.

* * *

         It was late at night and Duncan sat by the fire with a parchment and quill while the elf tossed and turned in a fitful sleep plagued by nightmares. He looked over at the messenger crow where it was perches and patiently waiting for its orders to return. The Grey Warden put quill to parchment.

 _Alistair,_  
_I am a day’s journey away with a promising recruit. His name is Theron, a Dalish elf tainted by the Blight.  
D_

        He rolled the parchment and tucked it into the crow’s leg canister and sent it off. He looked over at Theron who groaned in his sleep and rolled over away from the fire.  


* * *

        They arrived the next day and Duncan stopped when he realized Theron wasn’t following or paying attention to him. The elf was staring at the humans on the bridge with a mix of nervousness and suspicion. It occurred to the Grey Warden that this was probably the most humans he had ever seen; he suddenly questioned whether he should have an elven warden follow him but pushed that aside, the Dalish elf needed to let go of his past, Grey Wardens didn’t need such a thing. “You may look around as you wish but you must find a Grey Warden named Alistair. We will speak later,” Duncan instructed once he got the hunter’s attention.

* * *

         “Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message.” Alistair smirked, he noticed in the corner of his eye a figure walk up the stairs and lean against a nearby pillar to watch the argument.  
        “Your glibness does you no credit,” the mage scowled.  
        “Just when I thought we were getting along,” Alistair moaned, “and here I was going to name one of my children after you, the grumpy one.”  
        “Enough! I will see what the Grand Cleric wants,” the mage stormed off and the former Templar took in the appearance of his audience.

* * *

         The elf was clearly Dalish with his intricate facial tattoos but was also clearly tainted; skin that was normally permanently tanned from a life in the sun was pale with darkened veins visible everywhere the tattoos weren’t. The Dalish’s forest green eyes were bright with fever; the warden could see the tips of the elf’s wars twitch through his thick black hair that was starting to fall out of its tie and knew the hunter was hearing the Archdemon even if he didn’t know it. “Isn’t it nice how everyone worked together during a Blight?” He asked and walked over to the elf but stopped when the hunter shifted his weight to his back foot.  
Theron studied the human, still trying to hear anything over that noise that was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. “You are a very strange human,” he finally settled on.  
        Alistair let out a mental sigh of relief when the hunter didn’t react with outright hostility but the Taint was obviously making the elf short tempered. “You are not the first to tell me that,” he grinned, “you’re not another mage, are you?” It was evident the elf in front of him was not but he stilled needed to see just how the Taint was affecting the hunter.  
        The dark haired hunter studied him again and Alistair had the distinct impression the elf was trying to see down to his very soul. After what seemed like hours, the hunter quirked the corner of his mouth in a ghost of a smile, “would that make your day worse if I was?”  
        Alistair beamed and was struck by a thought, “wait, have we met?”  
        Theron shook his head, “you must be Alistair, and I’m Theron.”  
        “Right, that was the name. You’re Duncan’s new recruit. I should have recognized you sooner, I apologize. As the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you as you prepare for the Joining,” he smiled.

* * *

         They walked around the camp and as the passed by the Quartermaster’s area they heard the older human call out, “you there, elf! Where’s my armour?!” The Warden was about to lecture the man but Theron already had his bow out and an arrow nocked.  
        “Want to repeat that, Shem,” Theron hissed and glared at the Quartermaster.  
        Alistair quickly got between the two and hoped the angered elf wouldn’t fire his arrow with him in the way. “He is not a servant, he is a Grey Warden recruit hand chosen by Duncan, show some respect.”  
        The Quartermaster stared in terror at Theron but turned his attention to Alistair when he stepped into the line of fire. “I apologize, I didn’t know,” he stuttered.  
        “Yes, well, you should be nicer to your servants anyway,” Alistair continued and turned back to Theron who had now lowered his bow, “you can put that down, no harm done, let go find the other recruits.” Theron showed no signs of hearing him or even really registering he was there. The junior warden risked getting closer to the elf that was unmistakeably no longer listening to anything either he or the Quartermaster could hear. “Theron? Come on, Duncan is expecting us, we have to go,” he laid his hand on the hunter’s shoulder and Theron jumped, nearly loosing the arrow.  
        He glared at Alistair who quickly removed his hand. “Fine,” he sighed and slung his bow over his shoulder and replaced the arrow in his quiver.

* * *

        Alistair quickly jogged over to Duncan while Theron was distracted by the Kennel master and a sick Mabari. “Sir,” the junior warden greeted.  
        “Alistair, how has your day been?” Duncan asked and the blonde knew what the Commander meant.  
        “I had to stop him from lodging an arrow in the Quartermaster’s head,” he groaned.  
        “The Taint is making him violent,” Duncan contemplated, “very well, we will do the Joining sooner.” Alistair nodded and jogged back to where the hunter was finishing up with the Kennel master, he doubted the elf realized he was gone.  
        “If you’re done here, we should go meet up with Duncan,” Alistair urged. The Dalish nodded and walked over to where the Warden Commander was waiting.  
        “Alistair,” Duncan greeted, “we are ready to continue, assuming, of course, you’re done riling up mages.”  
        “What can I say, the Revered Mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army.”  
        “She forced you to sass the mage, did she?” Duncan sighed and shook his head, “we can’t afford to antagonize anyone.”  
        “You’re right, I apologize. I’ll go fetch who we’re missing.”  
        Alistair left and Duncan took the opportunity to see how Theron was doing. The elf was obviously struggling with his corruption but was doing his best to hide it. The Commander hoped after the Joining he would calm down and begin to trust the other wardens; considering Alistair had managed to diffuse the hunter’s volatile temper, he had hope for the Dalish hunter.  
        Alistair returned with the two other and the three of them began bickering, Theron calling Jory a coward. Finally the four were off Theron leading the way. Even ill he leads without hesitation Duncan thought.

* * *

         The four of them were walking with Jory complaining, Daveth poking fun, Alistair keeping quiet, and Theron using his superior hearing and knowledge of forests that didn’t really change much even if the forest was different than the one he lived in. He stopped before a small clearing causing the other two behind him to almost run into him.  
        “Wha-“ Jory started but was silenced by a glare from the elf. Alistair was about to say something when Theron brought his bow around but was quieted by the same glare. The hunter aimed into the bushed at seemingly nothing.  
        “We,” Alistair started but Theron loosed the arrow and a yelp interrupted him. A dead wolf fell to the ground, head just barely visible from the bushes with an arrow in its skull.  
        “Here they come,” Theron warned and nocked another arrow. Growls forced the rest to draw their weapons and attack the wolves obviously driven mad by the Blight.  
        The fight didn’t last long and the two archers were gathering arrows and Theron was also skinning the wolves, Alistair had a hard time convincing him not take the meat as well. “How did you know those wolves were there?” The other rogue asked.  
        Theron pulled an arrow free and was making short work of the pelt. “I could hear them beyond the bushes,” he answered shortly.  
        “I had no idea elf hearing was that good,” Alistair muttered.  
        “Certainly changes what I say when elven servants are in sight,” Jory mumbled.  
        “But not human servants,” Theron snapped.  
        “I didn’t mean it like that,” Jory defended.  
        Alistair recognized the look on Theron’s face from his encounter with the Quartermaster and stepped in, “keep in mind we are out here or a reason and it isn’t to argue.” The elf switched from Jory to Alistair, the song in his mind getting louder and it terrified the hunter. He eventually nodded and began walking.  
        They had only been walking a short while when they came across a scouting camp ransacked by Darkspawn. The four were examining the camp when a groan caught their attention. “Grey Wardens?”  
        The group walked over to the source of the voice to see the badly injured scout. “Well, he’s not half as dead as he looked,” Alistair knelt to get a better look at the man.  
        “Darkspawn, we had no warning. They came out of the ground,” the scout groaned and pushed himself up a bit, “you wouldn’t happen to have any bandages?”  
        “I have some in my pack,” Alistair reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a thick roll and began to treat the man.  
        The entire time Alistair was helping the other human Theron was at war with himself; some part deep within him wanted to go forward and finish the human off but a larger part of him was disgusted by this thought, it was one thing to kill a Shem that was a danger to him or his clan but another to kill a half dead man whom he had never met before. “Thank you,” the scout gasped and forced himself to his feet and limped toward camp.  
        “An entire scouting camp wiped out by Darkspawn,” Jory fretted, snapping Theron back to reality, “I’m no coward but this seems foolish and dangerous.”  
        “Listen to me, there are Darkspawn in these woods but we’re in no danger of running into the bulk of the horde,” Alistair explained, “we’ll be fine as long as we’re careful.”  
        “These soldiers were careful. How many Darkspawn can the four of us take down? Fifty? One hundred? We should go back.”  
        “All Grey Wardens can sense Darkspawn, there’s no way we’ll be taken by surprise,” Alistair reasoned.  
        “You hear that, ser knight? We may die but we’ll be warned about it first,” Daveth laughed.  
        “That is…reassuring,” Jory grumbled. Theron shook his head and began walking, he needed to get this done quickly, he was running out of time.


	4. Grey Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron goes into the Wilds to collect some things and meets some interesting people along the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [AeantizLKamenwati](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AeantizLKamenwati/pseuds/AeantizLKamenwati) for beta-ing and [ Project Elvhen](http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061) for helping me with my Elvish. Don't know why it took so long to find you!

Disclaimer: I wonder if these are actually necessary. Ah well, I don’t own the rights to Dragon Age.

     They had been walking a while when they came across some of the scouting group hanging from a fallen tree execution style. Jory and Daveth both paled, and Alistair shook his head, “poor sods. That just seems so excessive.”

     “Falon’din ghi’la ma(i),” Theron muttered, forcing himself to ignore the bit of him that found pleasure in those bodies hanging there.

     Alistair stopped and pointed ahead at the hill, “Darkspawn ahead.” Theron had the image of those monsters nearing Tamlen and was overcome with a sudden all-consuming rage; he drew his bow, ignoring the calls of the others and sprinted up the hill. Alistair let out a frustrated sigh and drew his sword and ran after the elf.

     The three humans got over the hill to where the Darkspawn were only to nearly trip over a Darkspawn corpse with an arrow lodged in its eye. They stared dumbfounded at the sight of the elf viciously attacking another enemy with a third crippled on the ground. “Maker’s breath!” Jory gasped.

     Alistair snapped from his daze and rushed to help the Dalish hunter. He quickly bashed one of the spawn with his shield when it tried to target Theron with a bow. “I have your back,” he shouted over the battle to the hunter, but there was no indication that he even heard. Finally, the other two joined in and made short work of the Darkspawn. The battle ended and the Warden looked to see Theron still attacking a body; he quickly grabbed the hunter and carried him away from the body. “Theron! It’s dead!” He shouted as the elf struggled to break free, “stop it!”

     The elf stilled at the shout and when Alistair saw understanding creep into the elf, he let him go. “Ir abelas(ii),” Theron muttered under his breath and looked away when Alistair just smiled happily at him.

     “One day I’m going to get you to tell me what it is you’re saying,” he grinned and started walking. Theron stared after the blonde human in confusion, what human cared what he was saying? 

     They continued on their way with Jory and Daveth giving the elf much more space than before. “Is it safe to bring him?” Jory whispered to Alistair.

     “He was hand chosen by Duncan,” Alistair defended.

     “He might attack us!” Jory whispered fiercely.

     “I can hear you,” Theron growled. _Delavir shemlen(iii),_ he thought with a scowl.

* * *

     The group had finished collecting the Darkspawn blood and that flower Theron wanted and were just now looking around the wilds for the ruin that held the treaties. Their progress had slowed because Theron couldn’t keep up and refused to be carried. While the two recruits were busy bickering, Theron noticed part of a crumbled wall in the distance. Finally! He thought and started to pick up his pace when Alistair stopped him. That bit in Theron recoiled in disgust and he was reacting before he could stop himself. The elf slapped Alistair’s hand away harshly, “tel’dera em(iv)!”

     The Warden stepped back and held his hands up in a gesture of peace, he had no idea what the little elf said, but he knew it wasn’t nice. “Easy, Theron, we’re on the same side, remember? I was just trying to warn you that there are Darkspawn ahead.”

     The hunter closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down. He worked hard to get his thoughts in coherent order once more. “Ir abelas, that was…unworthy,” he apologized and reached for his bow. 

     Alistair nodded with that same smile as before and drew his sword, “shall we go get those treaties?” Theron nodded and quickly made his way up a tree to a low hanging branch, he no longer trusted himself to be able to get away quickly if one of those creatures got too close. He edged as far out as he dared on his branch and nocked an arrow; one of the Darkspawn had wandered away from the others and the archer loosed his arrow to have it imbed itself in the monster’s throat. Its gurgling cry alerting the others to enemies. Even with its dying warning, it didn’t take long for the four to overpower to Darkspawn and kill them all.

     Theron walked over to the chest where the treaties were supposed to be when he was stopped by a voice. “Well, well, what have we here?” The dark haired woman walked along the top of a broken wall. “Are you a vulture, I wonder; a scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have long since been picked clean?” She sauntered closer and Theron could practically hear the three behind him tense up, “or merely an intruder come to these Darkspawn filled wilds in search of easy prey?” She stopped and glared at the four, “what say you? Scavenger or intruder?”

     The three behind him were speechless so the archer answered, “neither, this tower once belonged to Grey Wardens.”

     “Tis a tower no longer, the wilds have obviously reclaimed this desiccated corpse. I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go?’ I wonder. ‘Why are they here?’” The woman walked a little ways away, her back to the group, “now you disturb ashes none have for so long, why is that?” She turned back to face them.

     “Don’t answer that, she looks Chasind and that means others may be nearby,” Alistair warned.

     The woman smirked, “you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you.”

     “Yes, swooping is bad,” Alistair frowned.

     “She’s a witch of the wilds, she is!” Daveth fretted, “she’ll turn us into toads.”

     “Witch of the Wilds,” the witch drew out, “such idle fancies those legends. Have you no minds of your own?” She turned to Theron, “you there, Elves do not frighten like little boys do. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

     Theron studied the woman before answering, “andaran atish’an(v), my name is Theron.”

     The woman paused for a second as she mentally translated the greeting. “Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the wilds. You may call me Morrigan. You came here looking for something that is here no longer.”

     “’Here no longer’?” Alistair parroted, “you stole them! You sneaky…witch thief!”

     “How very eloquent,” Morrigan sighed.

     “Those treaties are Grey Warden property, I suggest you return them.”

     “I will not for t’was no I that removed them,” Morrigan sniffed, “invoke a name that means nothing, I am not threatened.”

     “Who took them?” Theron asked before Alistair could say something else.

     “T’was my mother, in fact,” Morrigan replied.

     Alistair made a noise behind him but the elf ignored him, he had had experiences with shemlen living in the forest before and they were never quite as hostile to his clan as village shems. “Would you take us to her?” Theron requested.

     Morrigan smiled, “now there is a sensible request. I like you.”

     “Careful, first it’s ‘I like you’ then zap! Frog time,” the warden frowned.

     “She’ll put us all in the pot, she will!” Daveth whined.

     “If the pot’s warmer than this forest, it would be a nice change,” Jory complained.

     “Follow me then, if it pleases you,” Morrigan walked off.

* * *

     They followed the apostate to a small shack deep in the wilds. “Mother, I bring you four Grey Wardens who-“ Morrigan started.

     “I see them, girl,” the woman snapped, “much as I expected.”

     “Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?” Alistair scoffed.

     “You are required to do nothing, least of all believe,” the elder mage answered scornfully, “shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide, either way one’s a fool.”

     “She’s a witch I tell you,” Daveth warned, “we shouldn’t be talking to her.”

     “Quiet, Daveth!” Jory hissed, “if she really is a witch, do you want to make her mad?”

     “There’s a smart lad,” the old woman grinned, “sadly irrelevant in the large scheme of things.” She looked over to Theron who was rolling his eyes at the stupid humans. “But it is not I who decides,” she continued, “believe what you will.” She walked over to the elf that held his ground to her approach, “what do you believe? Does your elven mind give you a different view point, or do you believe the same as these boys do?”

     Theron was quiet for a moment as he considered the question, just a couple days ago he believed him and Tamlen would protect the clan together but that was no longer possible. “I don’t know what to believe,” he finally admitted.

     “A statement with more wisdom than it implies,” she replied, “’be always aware.’ Or is it oblivious? I can never remember.” She studied the elf fighting against the corruption, “so much about you is uncertain and yet I believe. Do I? It seems I do.”

     Theron blinked _believe what?_ He wondered.

     “So this is a dreaded witch of the wilds,” Alistair laughed.

     “’Witch of the Wilds’ huh. Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales but she would never admit it,” she laughed, “oh how she dances under the moon!”

     Morrigan rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration, “they did not come here to listen to your wild tales, mother.”

     “True, they came for their treaties,” she agreed, “and before you begin barking, your precious seals wore off ages ago. I protected these.”

     “You…oh. You protected these,” Alistair deflated.

     “And why not?” She started, “take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is bigger than they realize.”

     “Ma serannas(vi),” Theron thanked.

     “Such manners! Always in the last place you look, like stockings,” the elder mage laughed, “oh don’t mind me, you have what you came for.”

     “Time for you to go then,” Morrigan stated.

     “Don’t be ridiculous, girl, these are your guests,” her mother scolded.

     “Oh,” Morrigan sighed, “very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.”

* * *

     All four didn’t return until well after dark; Theron had slowed even more and had still refused Alistairs help, the other two had long stopped looking to see if the elf was alright. They met up with Duncan after Theron gave the flower to the Kennel master. Alistair gave the commander the vials who took them, “we can now begin the Joining,” he walked off and the junior warden led all three to where the Joining would take place.

     “The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it!” Jory complained.

     “Are you blubbering again?” Daveth argued.

     “Why all these damned tests? Have I not already earned my place?” Jory defended.

     “Maybe it’s tradition, maybe it’s just to annoy you,” Daveth growled, growing impatient with the warrior’s cowardice.

     Theron glanced over at them from his spot against the wall but didn’t bother replying, he was too busy trying not to grab his head and scream at the terrible and beautiful song to stop. “All I know is that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way,” Jory continued, “it just doesn’t seem fair.”

     “Would you have come if they had warned you?” Daveth asked rhetorically, “maybe that’s why they don’t. ‘Grey Wardens do what they must’ remember?”

     “Including sacrificing us?” Jory argued.

     “I would sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight,” Daveth reasoned, “maybe you’ll die, maybe we’ll all die. If no one stops the Darkspawn, we’ll die for sure.”

     “I just have never met a foe I could not engage with my blade,” Jory defended just as Duncan walked over.

     Duncan approached the table holding a silver cup, “at last, we’ve come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. And so it was the first Wardens drank Darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

     “We’re…we’re going to drink the blood of those…creatures?” Jory stuttered, Daveth was surprised but would face this with courage, Theron wondered how exposing himself to more Taint would cure his corruption.

     Duncan walked over with the cup and nodded, “as the first Grey Wardens did before us and as we did before you. This is the source of our power and out victory.”

     “Those who survive the Joining become immune to the Taint,” he looked over at Theron as he said this, “we can sense it in the Darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon.”

     Theron stared at the cup in horror. _I will make my clan proud_ he thought.

     “We speak only a few words before the Joining,” Duncan continued, “Alistair, if you would.”

     Alistair bowed his head and everyone followed suit, “join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the Shadows, Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn; and should you perish, know that one day we will join you.” Jory stared anxiously at the cup.

     Duncan held out the cup, “Daveth, step forward.” The rogue stepped toward the commander and took a drink only to cry out in pain and fall to the ground with a gurgle. “I’m sorry, Daveth,” Duncan apologized and Daveth made one attempt to get to his feet before collapsing dead. “Jory, step forward.”

     Jory stepped back and drew his greatsword, “I have a wife. Had I known.”

     Duncan set the cup down and drew his own blade, “there is no turning back.” There was a brief fight before Duncan buried his sword in Jory’s chest, “I am sorry.”

     Theron watched in horror but refused to run, he was dead either way it seemed. _Could have died surrounded by my clan_ he mentally complained.

     “Theron, step forward,” Duncan commanded. Theron pushed himself off the wall and walked over and took a drink. The elixir burned going down and set his blood on fire. He could hear someone screaming before realizing it was him. His legs gave out and could barely hear Duncan as the darkness consumed his vision, “from this day forth, you are a Grey Warden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i) “Falon’din guide you.” I couldn’t find anything else that translates neatly into Elvish so I’m using this  
> (ii) “I’m sorry.” If you needed to be told  
> (iii) Literally translates to “stupid humans”  
> (iv) “Don’t touch me”  
> (v) A formal greeting  
> (vi) “Thank you.”


	5. Ogres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron and Alistair go things go sour...as they do

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, something about not owning this, blah, blah

* * *

     There was a dragon surrounded by Darkspawn and fire roaring and Theron knew instinctively that this creature was responsible for the song haunting him; the song he realized he could no longer hear. He stared up at the Dragon in fear and disgust as it flared its wings and roared again. Theron gasped awake and stared at the night sky trying to get his bearings. “Welcome back,” Duncan greeted and the elf stared at him dumbfounded. 

     “We only lost one at my Joining but it was…horrible,” Alistair shook his head and that seemed to shake Theron from his stupor.

     “Mythal’s mercy, nothing could have prepared me for that,” he accepted Alistair’s hand to help him up.

     “Such is how it must be,” the Commander replied, “when you are ready; meet me at the War Table.” Duncan walked off and Alistair wandered off to find something to eat.

     The hunter walked down the steps and marveled at everything he was in too much pain to notice before. He also noticed that his body was no longer on fire and could once more hear the world now that the song wasn’t drowning it out everything else. He walked over to the Quartermaster who jumped at the sight of him. “I have items to trade,” he stated and the man calmed slightly. After selling what he found in the Wilds, he wandered over to the mess hall, he stared at all the humans eating at the long tables, the Quartermaster had told him that this was where he could get some food but had no idea where to get said food.

     “You’re looking little lost,” Alistair walked over with a plate filled with meat and various cheeses.

     “By the Dead Wolf!” Theron jumped.

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Alistair apologized.

     The elf shook his head, “its fine. I’m not even sure where to start.”

     The blonde warden laughed and clapped the elf on the back that jumped at the sudden contact, “here, I’ll show you.”

* * *

     The two were sitting at a table that was relatively empty to spare the overwhelmed elf. Alistair was stuffing his face and Theron was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that no one hunted this meat and that is was from farm animals brought along just to be eaten. “So Shems don’t need to hunt?” The hunter asked, picking up a piece of bread, he had never seen bread that looked like this or was served so frivolously, “and what in Elgar,nan’s name is this?”

     “No one hunts in villages or cities; food is delivered to your door in the city and in villages the farms are right there,” Alistair explained, trying not to laugh at Theron, “that’s bread, why did you take it if you didn’t know what it was?”

     “I know what it is,” Theron glowered, “I’ve never seen it look like this.” The Dalish looked back at the piece of bread, “and Shems eat this?”

     Alistair laughed at that, “you’re supposed to dip it in the stew.”

     Theron stared at the bowl of grey mush, “that is not stew. That is something that comes out the back end of a sick Halla.”

     “If you’re not going to eat it…” Alistair trailed off; Theron pushed the bowl to him.

     “You Shemlen are strange,” the elf commented and picked at the rest of his plate.

     “Pretty sure that’s you,” Alistair replied around a mouthful of “stew.”

* * *

     The duo stood in front of Duncan as he explained their mission. “We won’t be part of the battle?” Alistair whined.

     “This is a mission from the King, Alistair,” Duncan informed.

     “Fine, but it the King ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line,” Alistair argued.

     Theron was quiet as he tried to figure out what a Remigold was. Finally he had no choice but to ask, “what’s a Remigold?”

     “It’s a silly dance nobles do at soirees,” Alistair explained.

     “Oh,” the hunter thought about that, “I don’t know, that might be an excellent distraction.”

     “Yes, we could get them by surprise while they’re busy rolling on the ground laughing,” Alistair grinned. Duncan let out an irritated sigh; of course the elf would have Alistair’s sense of humor.

     “You know what to do,” Duncan spoke before the two could get completely off topic. The two nodded and headed towards the tower; Duncan watched them for a moment before turning to join the army, he couldn’t help but feel that he just put Fereldan’s fate in the hands of two junior recruits.

     An Ogre threw a boulder at a group of archers on the bridge making Alistair to wince. “The tower is just on the other side of this bridge!” He shouted over the chaos.

     Theron stared at the scene before him; it was almost as bad as his nightmare. “Abanal,” he muttered.

     The blonde warrior looked at him, “aba-wha?”

     “Abanal, the void,” he translated, “this looks like something the souls of the wicked would be punished with.”

     “I knew I shouldn’t have stolen that cheese wheel,” Alistair lamented and the two made a mad dash across the ancient bridge.

     Once the elven warden heard the while of a boulder flying and leapt at Alistair who was slightly in front of him, “get down, telharth(i) Shemlen!” Both were knocked to the ground by the elf and a boulder flew very close to where Alistair had been.

     “How did you-?” The other warden started.

     Theron shook his head, “now is not the time.” Alistair nodded and the two were off once more, the blonde warrior staying much closer to the elf in case another rock headed their way.

     A mage and a tower guard stopped the two as they approached the gate. “You have to help! The tower has been taken!” The mage yelled.

     Alistair jogged closer, “what do you mean, man? Taken how?”

     “Darkspawn,” the tower guard answered, “they can up from below!”

     “We need to retake that tower!” The blonde warden informed as if Theron didn’t already know that, “Duncan is counting on us!”

     “Then we are wasting time,” the elf growled and drew his bow.

     The four plowed through the group of Darkspawn outside the tower and burst through the door. “Maker’s breath!” He gasped when he saw the inside of the building, “they’re everywhere.”

     Alistair stepped forward but the other warden stopped him. “There’s a trap,” he pointed to the almost invisible trip wire.

     “How did you see that?” The blonde warden asked.

     “You want to know that now?” Theron asked incredulously.

     “You’re right, later,” Alistair agreed.

     The group made it to the top to see the rather large and angry Ogre waiting up there. “Of course,” Theron grumbled and pulled out an arrow from his dangerously light quiver, “Dread Wolf take these banal’lin(ii)!”

     “Banal’lin?” Alistair asked.

     Theron glared at him, “now?!”

     “Right, Darkspawn first,” Alistair nodded and shouted at the Ogre to draw its attention from Theron who was getting into position. The elf had to pick his shots carefully; he didn’t have any poisons and a very limited number of arrows.

     The Ogre roared and turned its attention to the human warden with a swing of a massive arm. Alistair lifted up his shield but was still pushed back by the blow. “I’m going to feel that later,” he complained under his breath. The tower guard did his best to keep the Ogre’s attention divided between the two warriors.

     “Fenedhis(iii)!” The elf cursed when he used his last hour, he shouldered his bow and pulled out his two small daggers. “Alistair!” He yelled out, “give me a boost!” Alistair dropped his sword and cupped his hands. The elf took a running start at the human; Alistair threw him up at the Ogre the moment the elf’s foot handed in his hands. Theron gripped his daggers tight and narrowly missed a badly aimed swing. The elf landed on the Ogre’s face and buried a dagger deep in its eye. The Ogre let out a pained howl that quickly turned into a gurgle as the archer repeatedly stabbed it in the throat. The Ogre’s knees buckled and fell backwards with a ground shaking thud. Theron pulled the dagger in the Ogre’s throat free but the one in its eye was stuck.

     “We have to hurry!” Alistair was breathing heavily but still had the energy to jog over to the signal, “we’ve more than likely missed Duncan’s signal.” He lit the fire and the door flew open with another Ogre roaring. Two Darkspawn arrows took out the mage and the tower guard. “That’s not fair,” Alistair whined and picked up his fallen sword.

     “Only my ancestors lived forever,” Theron sighed and grabbed the guard’s dropped sword.

     The Ogre ignored the exhausted warrior in favor of the elf that had almost no energy to dodge the lumbering beast. A swing of its colossal arm connected with Theron’s legs as he tried to jump out of the way and sent him spiralling into a wall and crumbling to the ground. “Theron!” Alistair shouted and charged at the Darkspawn with everything he had left. The Ogre swung again and it connected with his shield before the former Templar was completely ready and the resulting force broke his shield arm. He cried out in pain but refused to fall. He held his sword ready to cut that arm than came at him but it never did; the Ogre and the other Darkspawn’s attention were on something behind the Warden. He turned to look and saw the mammoth head of a Dragon. “Now that’s REALLY unfair,” he complained and dropped to the ground as it let loose fire. Alistair crawled to Theron who still lay where he had landed; the elf was bleeding badly from the back of his head where it connected with the wall but by some miracle his legs looked intact, Alistair wasn’t sure that would matter because he couldn’t even be sure the elf was breathing.

     Everything was oddly quiet and Alistair dared to look away from the fallen elf; all the Darkspawn were dead the Dragon was just staring at him expectantly. The Warden gripped his sword as best he could and the Dragon snorts. The warrior blinked at that but suddenly couldn’t keep his eyes open, he collapsed beside Theron.

* * *

     Alistair woke up with a nagging feeling he had forgotten something important but thinking was difficult; all his thoughts were sluggish, like they were trying to walk through waist high syrup. The Warden opened his eyes to look around in the hope that it would help clear the cobwebs in his mind. “You finally awaken” a voice close to him greeted. He slowly sat up, mindful of his left arm. Why was he being careful? The arm was fine. He stared at the elderly mage chopping roots and vegetable; the sight of it gave the junior warden a pause. The sight of the old woman triggered his memory; he leapt out of bed and nearly fell back in it from vertigo.

     “Theron. Where’s Theron?” He was stumbling around trying to find the elf before his vision had fully cleared.

     “Calm down, young man,” the old woman scolded, “he’s over there.” She gestured with her knife to the figure lying still in a bed.

     Alistair walked over and stared at the unconscious elf’s rising and falling chest. “Thank the Maker,” he breathed.

     “Bah,” she scoffed, “your Maker didn’t save you. I did.”

     The Warden gaped at her, “but there was a Dragon.” The old woman scoffed but said nothing.

     “Thank you,” Alistair bowed his head, “thank you.” He turned to Theron and studied him. The elf was pale with thick white bandaged wrapped around his head, white bandages were also wrapped around his chest, obviously supporting still tender and newly healed ribs. “Can’t you heal him like you did my arm?” He inquired.

     “Bah, skulls and ribs are more complicated than arms,” the older mage snarked. Alistair looked back at Theron then stood up; he suddenly had an overwhelming need for air. The elder mage finished the vegetables and stepped out as well, shooing Morrigan inside to watch the stew and the elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i) “No hearing” so in other words “deaf”  
> (ii) “Darkspawn.” It literally means “nothing person”  
> (iii) A common curse it pretty much means “wolf dick”


	6. Falling and failing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Ostagar and Alistair hogging blankets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [AeantizlLKamenwati](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AeantizLKamenwati/pseuds/AeantizLKamenwati) for being my beta! I forgot to include this in my last chapter

Disclaimer: I don’t own this. Don’t sue, I’m broke and I need to fix my car

* * *

     The smell of stew cooking was the first thing he registered and for a moment the Dalish hunter could believe everything was a dream and he was still with his clan. “Salhasine era(i),” he groaned.

     “So your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased,” a voice commented. Theron opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.

     “Not a dream then,” he grumbled and held his chest in pain as he managed to sit up. “Morrigan?”

     “Ah, so you remember me,” she gave the pot a final stir and walked over to him, “do you remember what happened?”

     The hunter tried to think what got him here, “I remember a…tower, a signal, and then…nothing.”

     “You and the other warden were attacked by Darkspawn after you lit the signal fire. Mother rescued you,” the apostate explained patiently, so far the elf had given her no reason to be hostile. “The man who was supposed to respond to your signal quit the field. The Darkspawn won your battle; everyone who didn’t run was massacred. Your friend…he is not taking it well.”

     “Alistair? He’s alive?” The elf leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around his chest, “fenedhis!”

     “Your ribs are still healing,” Morrigan scolded, “Mother will want to see you now that you are on your feet.”

     “Ma serannas for helping me,” Theron thanked.

     “I…you are welcome, though Mother did most of the healing. I am no healer,” Morrigan stood up and returned to the stew, clearly flustered by Theron’s words.

     The elven warden stepped out with one arm still wrapped around his torso. “See, boy? There is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man,” the elderly mage informed.

     Alistair turned around and nearly fell to his knees in relief, Theron looked so pale earlier. “Maker, you’re alive!” The elf was still pale but not as bad and even the bandages wrapped around his head and poking out of the too large shirt didn’t look as bad as when he had been unconscious. “If it hadn’t been for Morrigan’s mother, we’d be dead on top that tower.”

     “Don’t speak of me as if I’m not here, lad,” the old apostate barked.

     “I’m sorry,” Alistair jumped, “it’s just y-you never told us your name.”

     “Names are pretty but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth, I suppose that will do,” she replied.

     “You’re Flemeth? _The_ Flemeth?” Alistair gaped, “Daveth was right. You are a Witch of the Wilds.”

     “And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic and it has served your both well,has it not?” Flemeth scoffed.

     Theron rubbed at his head that had started to pound, ignoring the two almost completely. “Ma serannas for helping us, Flemeth,” he thanked, still rubbing his sore head through the bandaged; he felt like he knew this woman by a different name but his headache made it impossible for him to focus. “Now we need to decide what it is we’ll do,” he continued.

     Alistair turned to look at him, “what do you mean?”

     “He’s talking about the Blight, boy, do try to keep up,” Flemeth answered shortly, “and that is an excellent question; you both are the only surviving Grey Wardens. What will you do?”

     The blonde warrior turned to stare at Theron expectantly, as if a Dalish fresh from the forest would know exactly what to do in case of a Blight with only two warden recruits to stop it. “Is it possible to send word to other wardens?” He asked, giving up on his headache.

     Alistair shook his head, “it would take too long to get them a message and for them to get here. That’s assuming they can even get into Fereldan; Loghain is blaming the Grey Wardens for King Cailin’s death.”

     “There must be some allies we can call upon,” the archer sighed irritably.

     “Of course!” Alistair leapt up in the air, “the treaties! Grey Wardens can call upon the help of mages, dwarves, elves, and other places! They’re obligated to help up during a Blight!”

     “Won’t Loghain keep the shem army from honoring these treaties? Assuming they have an army still?” Theron asked.

     “If Arl Eamon had heard about this, he wouldn’t stand for it,” the blonde glowered at the ground and then jumped into the air again, “Arl Eamon! His soldiers weren’t at Ostagar! He still has all his men!”

     “I don’t know about you but dwarves, elves, mages, this ‘Arl Eamon’; this sounds like an army to me,” Flemeth commented.

     “Can we do this?” Alistair asked, “can we build an army?”

     The hunter shrugged, “no one else is going to.”

     “So you two are finally ready to be Grey Wardens,” Flemeth smirked, “there is one more thing I can give you.”

     As if on cue, Morrigan walked out, “the stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Do we have two guests for the eve or none?”

     “The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly and you shall be joining them,” the old woman informed.

     “Such a shame,” Morrigan then turned to her mother as she registered what her mother had said, “what?!”

     “You heard me, girl,” Flemeth laughed, “last time I looked you had ears. You’re been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Now’s your chance.”

     “But, Mother, I’m not ready,” Morrigan was starting to look frightened and Theron would understand her fear.

     “You must be ready,” Flemeth took on a kinder tone, “alone, these two must stop a Blight, they will need help.”

     “I…understand,” the younger mage sighed.

     “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but outside of these woods, she’s an apostate,” Alistair frowned.

     “If you don’t want help from us illegal mages, maybe I should have left you on that tower,” the old mage lectured.

     The blonde warden visibly slumped, “point taken.” He turned to Theron, “but do we really want to take her along because her mother said so?”

     The elf looked over at Morrigan then back at Alistair, “I have no issue with apostates and I won’t turn away help,” he turned to Morrigan, “but I won’t take anyone against their will.”

     Morrigan seemed to calm down at that but her mother spoke before she could. “She knows magic and better yet, she knows the way out of the Wilds,” Flemeth spoke.

     Alistair looked like he wanted to pout. No one was on his side; finally, he relented, “Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them.”

     “I’m so pleased to have your approval,” Morrigan snarled, “allow me a moment to gather my things if you please.” The younger woman returned to the shack to pack.

     “We better get our armour on,” Alistair suggested and started gathering pieces of his armour. Theron glanced over at the broken chest piece of his own armour and sighed, it had been the first piece of leather armour he had made that had turned out. He grumbled as he put on the leg coverings, arm coverings, fingerless gloves, and the foot wrappings that protected the soles of his feet but left the balls and heels of his feet exposed. I’ll just have to make a new chest piece he thought. 

     Alistair looked over at Theron as the elf wrapped his feet, careful of his still sore chest. “I don’t get it,” he commented.

     Theron didn’t even look up from his work, “get what?”

     “Why don’t any of the elves I’ve seen wear boots?” He asked.

     The elf looked up from what he was doing to stare quizzically at the human. He laughed and held out a foot with the heel on the ground and arched his foot until the entire underside of his foot was not touching but his toes were still on the ground, Alistair stared at the sight, dumbfounded. “Elves have double jointed feet, shoes just get in our way,” he explained.

     He thought how earlier Theron had climbed that tree and gripped the branch so tightly with his feet. “That makes sense,” he nodded

     Morrigan returned with her pack, “there is a village not far from here,” she informed, “or if you’d rather, I shall simply be your silent guide.”

     The elven warden shook his head, “I would rather you speak your mind.”

     “Ha!” Flemeth laughed, “you will come to regret that.”

     “My dear, sweet mother,” Morrigan hissed, “how kind of you to cast me out. How fondly I shall remember this moment.”

     “Like I always say: if you want something done, do it yourself,” Flemeth replied, “or hear about it for a decade or two afterward.”

     “Goodbye, Mother,” Morrigan readjusted her pack, “do not forget about the stew on the fire, I would hate to return to a burned down hut.”

     “Bah, tis far more likely to find me and this entire area consumed by the Blight,” the old legend jeered.

     Morrigan lost her anger and looked worried once more, “a-all I meant was…”

     “I know, dear. Do try to have fun,” Flemeth waved her off.

     “Ma serannas for everything,” Theron thanked.

     “You can thank me by ending the Blight,” the legendary witch scoffed.

* * *

     The group had been walking in silence for too long as far as Alistair was concerned and he was determined to end it; he had already tried to engage Morrigan in conversation, but the apostate was just as determined to ignore him. The Warden looked at his elven brother in arms who was ahead of them a small ways scouting their path. He had tried to argue that Darkspawn could not sneak up on them because they were Wardens but both the witch and the elf stared at him like he was an idiot. He jogged over to walk beside Theron who acknowledged him with a slight turn of his head in Alistair’s direction. “So why do you need to scout? We can sense Darkspawn,” he asked.

     Theron raised an eyebrow at him, “you don’t spend much time in forests, do you?”

     Alistair laughed, “that obvious, huh? Here I thought I was hiding my lack of knowledge about trees and bushes so well. If you must know, I was born and raised in Redcliffe. I had never been this far in forests before Joining the Grey Wardens.”

     “There are more than Darkspawn to watch out for in woods,” the elf started, “you have to watch out for wolves, bears, or male Harts esalathal(ii) females. Stags can get quite aggressive.”

     “Esa-what?” Alistair stumbled, trying to pronounce the word.

     “Esalathal,” Theron repeated, “it means ‘courting’.” He watched Alistair pale as he put two and two together. The elf laughed, “that happens in the adahl’melana(iii) so we don’t have to worry.”

     “The word is ‘Spring’ in common tongue,” Morrigan instructed.

     Theron shook his head, “such a crude language.”

     Alistair continued to fill the long walk with idle chatter until it began to get dark. The human Warden suddenly realized that the only one who had supplies for shelter was Morrigan. “We don’t have any tents,” he commented.

Morrigan scoffed as she set up her tent but said nothing. “You may not, I kept those pelts I got from the wolves,” Theron dropped his own rawhide pack he had refused to leave behind when they left for their mission in the tower. The Dalish hunter pulled out the pelts and used branches and whatever else that was useful in his pack to hold the pelts together and to keep them from flying off in a strong wind.

     Alistair stared at the crude tent that Theron had put together. “You’re going to sleep under that?” The shelter had barely anything in the way of walls aside from the branches he had woven together with a pile of leaves to act as a bed.

     Theron looked up from the fire he was working on to glance at his shelter then over at Alistair with an amused expression, “compared to your sleeping arrangements?” He looked at Alistair’s bed of dirt by where Theron was making his fire. “It gets cold at night,” he warned.

     “I’m tough, I’ll be fine,” the Warden looked again at one of the pelts where part of the skin on the head was still attached and seemingly staring at him.

     Theron looked at what he was staring at, “really? You’re fine with Darkspawn turning a scouting army into red paste but get squeamish at the skin of a wolf?”

     “It’s not that!” Alistair argued, “it smells, you haven’t had a chance to clean those pelts yet.”

     The elf had an expression that said he didn’t believe him but let it drop. He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a pouch of dried berries, nuts, and strips of meat. He caught Alistair staring and gave him some, “this is what food tastes like.”

     Alistair popped some berries in his mouth, “this is what rations tastes like.”

     The hunter glared, “if you don’t like it, then give it back.” Alistair held the bit of food close to his chest. Theron snorted, “that’s what I thought."

     Alistair scooted closer once Theron got the fire going. “Why aren’t we hunting for dinner?” He asked.

     “’We’?” Theron asked with a raised eyebrow.

     “I could help!” The blonde argued.

     “You could also scare away all the game with your bumbling,” Morrigan snorted, “the latter tis far more likely than the former.” The human glared at the witch then turned back to Theron.

     “I have no arrows to kill prey, no traps to catch prey, and my one dagger is tainted by Darkspawn blood until I can clean it properly,” the hunter explained, “it’s also getting too dark to forage. I have some of your Shemlen air(iv), we can use it on Lothering to get better supplies.”

     “I don’t think merchants will be happy if you paid them in air,” Alistair commented, “and what do you mean ‘Shemlen air’? There isn’t such a thing at Dalish air…is there?”

     The elf stared at him like he had grown a second head and pulled out a copper, “I thought Shemlen liked air. They would accuse us of stealing it if we came too close to a village.”

     “That’s not air, that’s a copper and yes, merchants take that,” Alistair blinked.

     Morrigan rolled her eyes, “air is the elvish word for coin, you fool.” She turned to Theron, “tis better to ask me questions involving human affairs. Our resident jester will only confuse you.”

     “Hey!” Alistair shouted indignantly.

     Time passed and Theron and Morrigan were asleep in their tents with Alistair shivering by the embers of the fire. The former Templar looked at the witch’s tent and for half a second contemplated asking to join her before shuddering and looking over at Theron’s tent. The wolf head still bothered him but the cold was bothering him more. He walked over to where the elf was asleep on his bed of leaves with a hand-stitched blanket over him. Alistair sighed and nudged the elf. “Theron,” he whispered.

     “Still think you’re going to be fine?” Theron asked without opening his eyes.

     “No, it’s freezing out here,” Alistair whined, “got room for one more?” 

     Theron opened and eye to see Alistair’s puppy dog pout and shifted over to one side, “fine you, dharlin(v), get in.” Alistair didn’t waste a second ducking in and scooting close so they could share the blanket.

     “This is soft,” he commented as he cuddled up with the blanket.

     “It’s Halla hair and if you hog the blanket, tomorrow you’re sleeping in your dirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i) “Strange dream”  
> (ii) “Courting.” In this sense, looking for a mate  
> (iii) “Spring”  
> (iv) “Money.” This made the joke possible  
> (v) “Puppy.” But I’m going more for “baby dog.”


	7. Ch. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group leave the Wilds and Theron gets a pet

Disclaimer: Blah blah, Bioware owns Dragon Age. I doubt this disclaimer would stop them from suing my ass if they decided to be assholes.

It seemed to Alistair that he had barely had a chance to get comfortable and sleep when Theron began tearing down the makeshift tent and letting in the morning light. The blonde Warden groaned and rolled over, throwing his arm over his head to block out the weak morning rays.  


“Time to wake up, eral Shemlin (T/N: Sleeping human),” Theron announced, pulling the blanket off his fellow Warden, and rolling it back up.  


Alistair grumbled and opened one eye to glare balefully at the elf. “The sun is barely up,” he complained.  


“Yes, which means it’s light enough out to start moving. We have no food, little weapons, and a long way left to go. Remember?” The elf reminded. “We need to move before the Darkspawn start travelling this way and before the Blighted wildlife are pushed this way.”  


Alistair sighed and sat up. “You’re right. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” The human stood up and stretched out the kinks sleeping in his armour had given him. He glanced over to see Morrigan had just woken up herself, not used to the hours the Dalish seem to keep either. The thought of her having to be woken up before she was ready made him smile despite of how tired he was.

* * *

The trio had barely cleared the Wilds when the sun had finally started to clear the trees and warm them. “Finally, was starting to wonder if I’d ever be warm,” Alistair groused.  


“Had you packed warmer clothes, you would be,” Morrigan sniffed as she passed by him.  


“How can you say that? You’re wearing less clothes than me!” The blonde complained.  


“Diana (T/N: stop), both of you,” Theron interrupted before Morrigan could deliver her scathing retort. Theron’s small number of rations didn’t last long against two Grey Wardens and what food Morrigan had brought had been destroyed in a fight with a pack of Blight Wolves. The three were hungry, tired, and wearing on each other’s nerves. All that kept an actual fight from breaking out between the former Templar and the arrogant Apostate was Theron’s seeming authority over their odd little group.  


“Who’s ‘Diana’?” Alistair asked. It helped that all it took to distract the other Warden was for Theron to throw some Elvish at him.  


“It means ‘stop’, Alistair,” the elf explained and stared at the road ahead of them. He had seen roads travelling with Duncan but was still getting used to the idea that Humans even had such things. It must make travelling easier he thought.   


The wide-open land with the trees pushed back made it harder to hear what they were saying so he almost missed their warning of approaching danger. He reached for his bow before remembering that he had no arrows and reached for his dagger instead.  


“I sense Darkspawn,” Alistair warned and drew his sword. The three got ready for a fight when a large brown ball of fur came barreling towards them.  


“That is no Darkspawn,” Morrigan mocked.  


“It’s a Mabari,” the former Templar replied in a bewildered tone.  


Theron gazed passed the Mabari and could see the Darkspawn that had been chasing it. “The Darkspawn are behind the Mabari!” he warned. Attention turned from the dog to the monsters that were rapidly approaching them.  


The dog turned to face the Darkspawn it had been running from earlier with a snarl. Apparently, it had found what it was after and was ready to face their enemies. Alistair bellowed at the Hurlock Alpha(i) to get his attention on him rather than Morrigan or Theron.  


Morrigan cast Frost Weapons on Alistair’s sword and Theron’s dagger then turned her attention to the Darkspawn. With a wave of her staff, she hexed their enemies with Vulnerability. The Alpha realized what she had done and it turned its attention towards her. Alistair was quick to intercept it with a well-placed Shield Bash. The Alpha roared its anger and turned back to the former Templar.  


Theron wasted no time pulling a smoke bomb from his belt and smashing it on the ground by his feet, giving him the opportunity to slip into the shadows and sneak behind the Darkspawn. The elf knew he was no match for their opponents without his arrows. He managed to slice the throat of a Genlock(ii) before a Hurlock caught sight of him. The elf rolled out of the way of the Hurlock’s Great Sword, reaching for a bottle of poison from his belt. He smashed the bottle on his dagger and ducked low to get inside the reach of the Darkspawn’s weapon. Few Dalish Elves had experience with two handed weapons. Elves could use two handed weapons and some even preferred it. But the Dalish didn’t bother with them because of the number of trees usually found in forests. It was much easier to maneuver around trees with bows or long swords than it was with a Great Sword or a Battle Axe.  


Theron wished he had more experience with two handed weapons or at least had his leather chest piece when the Hurlock got him with the pommel. The force knocked the air out of him and forced him to stumble backwards gasping for breath. Pain extended throughout his chest as the elf hunched over trying to get his lungs to remember how to work. He saw the sword from the corner of his eye and pushed himself out of the way.  


“Morrigan!” He wheezed, trying to get her attention. He glared up at the Hurlock, ignoring the fire stretching along his ribs. “Sul’ema ra, Banal’lin. Garahnen rya ha’lam samelava (T/N: Bring it, Darkspawn. Everything must end sometime),” he growled. The Hurlock moved to swing. Theron readied his dagger. The Great Sword began its descent. The Hurlock fell to the ground howling in pain with the Mabari savagely tearing it apart with its teeth. Theron stood dumbfounded for a moment as the dog tore the Hurlock’s throat out. It gurgled once and moved no more.  


The dog looked happily up at Theron, stubby tail wagging. “Well then,” the elf started, finally able to take in a full breath again, “shall we?” He gestured to the fight still going on. “You keep them off me,” he ordered. The dog barked and howled. Another Genlock turned towards the Mabari and Theron slipped into the shadows once more.  


* * *

The fight lasted mere minutes with the group of Darkspawn dead and Alistair getting his nose set in place by Morrigan. “Hold still, you oaf,” she scolded, giving his nose a painful tweak.  


Alistair whimpered and swatted her hands away. “Maker’s breath. You know how to be gentle at all?”  


The Witch of the Wilds threw her hands up and stalked away. “Then it can heal crooked.” She turned her attention to the Elven hunter that was trying to get his shirt off.  


“Elvyr aenor (T/N: easy prey) without my bow,” he grumbled, oblivious to Morrigan approaching him.  


“What are you doing?” She asked and grabbed the shirt by its collar and yanked it off. Alistair, who had looked over at them at Morrigan’s question, yelped when he accidentally smacked his nose.  


“Maker’s breath, Theron! How did that happen?!” He examined the dark bruise forming on the elf’s torso.  


“I learned that both ends of Great Swords hurt,” he griped, reaching for the Elfroot in his pack.  


“Tis a harsh lesson,” Morrigan jeered and brushed her fingers over the bruise.  


“Oh sure, so you’re gentle with him!” The blonde Warden complained.  


“Theron knows how to hold still,” she retorted. The Apostate cast a minor healing spell and the fire in his chest died down. “That should help speed up the healing but you must be more careful. Should you perish, the fate of Fereldan would fall to Alistair.”  


“I’d argue, but she’s right,” he agreed and grunted when he finally got his poor nose back to its proper position. It would be somewhat misshapen when it healed. “I’m no leader.”  


The dog barked its agreement, whether at Theron needing to be careful or to Alistair’s lack of leadership capabilities was anyone’s guess.  


With the Darkspawn dead and injuries now tended, attention turned back to the Mabari that had aided/lead Darkspawn to them. “I think this is the Mabari you saved back at Ostagar,” Alistair started, “I think he was out here looking for you. He’s…chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”  


“Does this mean we’re going to have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful,” Morrigan sighed.  


“He’s not mangy!” Alistair cooed.  


“He probably saved my life,” Theron patted the dog on the head that barked happily.

  


“He reminds me of the stories of the Emerald Knights from Halam’Shiral. They had wolf companions that stayed with them to help protect the Dales. They were called the Knight’s Guardians.” The Elf paused in thought, “I will call you Fen’nas. Wolf heart.”  


Fen’nas barked happily and wagged his stubby tail. “I think he likes it,” Alistair chuckled.  


* * *

Alistair had gone quiet after Fen’nas had joined them. He couldn’t help but think of Duncan dying on the battlefield when he looked at the Mabari. I could have saved you had I been there he mentally lamented. He stared at the sword at his side What good am I if I can’t protect the people I care about?  


Theron glanced over at his fellow warden and slowed down so he fell into step with him. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his hand on the warrior’s arm. Alistair glanced at the elf, but stayed silent. The hunter let his hand fall back to his side. “Mala suledin nadas,” he spoke to comfort the man, “it means ‘now you must endure’.” Theron increased his pace until he was once more at the front of the group, keeping a keen eye out for danger.  


* * *

The group continued down the road, munching on some crops stolen from a farmer’s field. Alistair was still too consumed by grief to even notice they had stolen. Theron really had no concept that they had done anything wrong. You didn’t have to worry about food ownership in the forest, after all. Morrigan simply did not care about the theft.  


Up ahead a band of thieves perked up at the sight of more travelers. “Wake up, gentlemen. More travelers to attend to. Led by an elf, of all things,” the Leader ordered. The group stirred and rose to their feet.  


“Err…they don’t look much like them others, you know. Uh…maybe we should just let these ones pass…” another suggested, examining Alistair’s sword.  


“Nonsense! Greetings, travelers!” The leader greeted.  


The former Templar roused from his depression long enough to recognize what was in front of him. “Highway men. Preying on those fleeing the Darkspawn, I suppose,” he informed with disgust. More people I failed.  


Theron glanced over at Alistair, he had some experience with bandits. They sometimes would attack his clan, thinking they had items worth taking. The buffoons often didn’t live long enough to realize their mistake.  


“They are fools for getting in our way. I say teach them a lesson,” Morrigan sneered.  


“Now is that any way to greet someone? Tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on,” the leader smirked.  


“You should listen to your friend. We’re not refugees,” the elf warned.  


“See, what did I tell you? No wagons, and this one looks armed,” the other nodded at Alistair who had moved his hand closer to his sword.  


“The toll applies to everyone, Hanric. That’s why it’s a toll and not, say, a refugee tax,” the leader chided.  


“Oh, right. Even if you’re no refugee, you still gotta pay,” Hanric nodded.  


Theron folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. “Forget it, I’m not paying. Morrigan.”  


“Well-“ the leader started but stopped when he ice encased him. The others leapt into action but found themselves also trapped in ice.  


The elf walked up to the leader who watched him in terror. “You lot are pathetic. I see you again and you will not live long enough to regret it. Am I understood?” He nodded at Morrigan who let the leader’s head break free of the ice.  


“All right! We surrender! We-we-we’re just trying to get by, before the Darkspawn get us all,” he whimpered.  


“Get out of here,” Theron sneered. The leader nodded so fast Theron was sure his head would snap off. Morrigan released them and the bandits wasted no time running down the road the way the four of them had come.  


“Think we should warn them of the Darkspawn?” Alistair asked, his hand falling back to his side.  


The hunter shook his head and smirked, “they’ll find out soon enough.” Morrigan chuckled at that and replaced her staff in its holder on her back.  


They continued their way across the highway but stopped at the top of the ramp leading to Lothering. Theron stared dumbfounded at the village. He had never seen anything like it before. The farms, the houses, the people. His brief time at Ostagar could not have prepared him for this. All the trees had been cleared away for the buildings and farm land. Any trees left were took young to tell him anything. For the first time in his life Theron heard only silence, and it was deafening.  


“Well there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting,” Alistair walked up beside their leader, oblivious to the elf’s inner struggle.  


“Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?” Morrigan jeered.  


“Is my being upset so hard for you to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?” Alistair snapped.  


“Before or after I stopped laughing?” Morrigan laughed.  


“Right,” he drew out, “very creepy. Forget I asked.”  


“You have been very quiet, Alistair,” the hunter forced his attention away from the silence.  


“Yes, I know. I was just…thinking,” he answered.  


“No wonder it took so long, then,” the witch drawled.  


“Oh, I get it. This is the part where we’re shocked to discover how you’ve never had a friend your entire life,” the blonde rolled his eyes.  


“I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so,” she countered.  


“Anyway…” Alistair turned away from the Apostate, “I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first.”  


“We should try and use these treaties, I assume,” Theron replied.  


“I agree. Have you looked at them?” He asked.  


Morrigan noticed the way the elf paused at the question but said nothing, what did she care anyways? “No, not yet,” Theron settled on.  


“There are three main groups that we have treaties for: the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi,” Alistair explained. “I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first.”  


“Hmm, my clan has already moved north. We won’t find them,” he hummed, “we can try the Brecilian Forest all the same. Another clan travels through there so I might be able to track them.” He turned to Morrigan, “what do you think?”  


“Go after your enemy directly. Find this man, Loghain, and kill him. The rest of this business with the treaties can then be done in safety,” she suggested.  


“Yes, he certainly wouldn’t see that coming,” Alistair argued, “and it’s not like he has the advantage of an army and experience and-“  


“I was asked for my opinion and I gave it. If your wish is to come up with reasons why something can not be done, we will stand here until the Darkspawn are upon us,” she snapped.  


“Enough! Both of you!” Theron commanded, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did not have the ability to deal with their bickering right now. Fen’nas looked up at his master and whined. The elf patted the dog on the head. “It’s fine, Fen’nas.” He let his hand fall from his face and pinned the two humans in place with his stare. “We will go to the Brecilian Forest. We don’t have much time before the Briathos(iii) Clan moves north as well.”  


The group continued, unaware of their leader’s discomfort, except for Fen’nas. A templar stopped them on the pathway to the Chantry. “You, there! If you’re seeking safe shelter, I’ll warn you: there’s none to be found,” he warned. Theron tensed a little; he was no mage and doubted Morrigan needed to worry about Templars, but there were stories of Templars chasing after Dalish clans. Besides, Templars were part of the Chantry and the Chantry had proven itself to be no friend to the Dalish. “Move on if you can. Lothering’s lost,” the Templar continued.  


“What do you mean?” The elf asked and the Templar surprised him by looking right at him to respond.  


“We’ve had refugees streaming in from the south for the last two days. The Chantry and the tavern are full to bursting,” he informed, “There simply isn’t enough food to go around, and we Templars can barely keep order. You’d be better off elsewhere, my friend.”  


“Ma-thank you for letting me know,” he acknowledged. The Templar nodded and returned to watching for Darkspawn.  


Theron noticed a family of elves by the stone bridge trying to get his attention. He walked over, curious to see what the family wanted with him. Flat ears only interacted with the Dalish when they were on the run from Shemlen and he doubted he would be much help if that was the case here.  


“Greetings to you, good sir. If it…isn’t too much to ask, might you spare some bread? Or anything?” The father begged.  


“What happened to you?” Theron asked, glancing down at the little girl staring up at his markings.  


“We thought we’d be safer in Lothering, that the Teyrn would bring his soldiers here,” the father looked over at his wife, “but bandits attacked us and took everything! Our food…our clothes…my daughter’s pet lamb. Nobody cares about a few elves like us. Surely you understand.”  


“I met those bandits and drove them off,” Theron responded.  


“Really? That’s wonderful news!” The mother clapped her hands together in excitement, “maybe our belongings are still there!”  


The father tugged on his daughter to bring her along, but she was still fascinated with Theron’s markings. “What is that on your face?” She asked.  


“Don’t be rude,” her father chastised.  


Theron raised his hand to stop him, “it’s fine. I must look strange to you.” The father looked away in embarrassment and the mother blushed. The hunter knelt to look the little girl in the eyes. “They are Vallaslin. Blood writing in common,” he explained, “they are to honor a certain god. Mine is to Dirthamen: The Keeper of Secrets. We get them when we become adults.”  


The little girl’s ears perked up, eager to learn more about the strange elf. “Dirthaman?”  


Theron chuckled, “DirthaMEN. He gave us the gift of knowledge and taught us loyalty and faith in family.” He pulled some coin from his pouch, not bothering to see how much he had grabbed and put it in the girl’s hand. “They are important lessons we must not forget.” He stood up and stepped back, letting the father pull his daughter along as she gushed about the coin she had been given.  


“That was very kind,” Alistair praised.  


Theron shook his head. “No, it was right.” Morrigan made a dismissive noise and they moved along.  


It did not take long for the bickering between a Chantry sister and an annoyed looking man to distract them.  


“Back off! I have the right to charge what I wish!” The man pushed the sister back who recovered and stepped forward to argue with the man once more.  


“You profit from their misfortune! I should have the Templars give away everything in your carts!” She argued, the two Templars nearby stepped forward, ready to fulfill the Sister’s threat.  


“You wouldn’t dare! Any of you step too close to my goods, and I’ll-“ his hand bunched to a fist at his side, ready to strike.  


“It’s so nice to see everyone working together in a crisis. Warms the heart,” Alistair interrupted. Everyone’s attention turned to him.  


“Ho! You there! You look able! Would you care to make a tiny profit helping a beleaguered business man?” He asked, pushing right passed Theron. The elf sneered and rested a hand on Fen’nas to keep the giant mutt calm.  


“Atisha, Fen’nas,” he soothed. He stepped between the merchant and Alistair with his arms folded across his chest, that steely look he had used earlier on Alistair and Morrigan was back. “Why would we want to help you?” His tone was deceptively calm.  


The merchant studied the elf that he had dismissed earlier. Clearly, the elf was the leader of the odd group, as strange as that was. The elven savage didn’t appear to be much of a threat what with his empty quiver and bandaged head, but the Mabari standing beside him was. Perhaps it was best not to ignore the elf. “Didn’t I mention profit?”  


“He is charging outlandish prices for things these people desperately need! Their blood is filling his pockets!” The Sister argued.  


“Tis only survival of the fittest,” Morrigan sniffed, “all these cretins would do the same in his shoes, given the chance.”  


“I have limited supplies. The people decided what those supplies are worth to them,” the merchant debated.  


“You bought most of your wares from these very people last week! Now they flee for their lives, and you want to talk business?” The Sister accused.  


“Look, stranger, I’ve a hundred silvers if you’ll drive this rabble off, starting with that priest. I’m an honest merchant, nothing more,” he offered.  


Theron snorted, “you ignore me first and now think you can bribe me? Fen’nas, dira (T/N: attack).” The Mabari leapt onto the intruder, knocking him to the ground. The merchant stared up in breathless terror at the snarling war hound standing on his chest. The hunter walked over and rested a hand on the dog’s shoulder, “ema (T/N: hold). You are being unscrupulous.”  


“Would it help these people if they could buy no goods at all?” He asked with more courage than he felt.  


“They spend their very last coin because they are desperate, and this man preys upon them as surely as the bandits outside the city!” The Sister continued, torn between helping the merchant getting a face-full of Mabari breath or the people the merchant was trying to cheat.  


“I think you both can reach a compromise and still make a profit,” Theron stated, “Fen’nas here agrees with, don’t you?” The Mabari barked loudly at the merchant.  


“Perhaps…if that woman agrees I’m allowed to charge something,” he agreed.  


“Do what you must. So long as the prices do not beggar the needy,” she nodded.  


“Fine, fine. Done. And since you don’t look too needy, normal prices for you,” he growled.  


“Fair enough,” Theron shrugged and patted his thigh. Fen’nas hopped off the man, forcing the air from his lungs again, and returned to the elf’s side.  


“So…have we come to solve every squabble in the village, personally? My, but the Darkspawn will be impressed,” Morrigan sneered.  


“Telahna (T/N: hush, to be quiet), Morrigan,” he ordered pinching the bridge of his nose again. Truth be told, he wasn’t too fussy about having to deal with that merchant, but he couldn’t ignore the rude Shemlen either.  


The group had made it to the bridge in silence before the two humans began bickering again. The elf gave a mental sigh and slipped away while the two were distracted. He circled around to the back of the merchant’s wagons while he was busy dealing with the refugees. Theron refused to give his coin to the man, but he desperately needed supplies. “Fen’nas, stand guard. Alert me if he’s coming,” he ordered and the dog gave a quiet bark. The war hound lay nearby the wagon and pretended to be asleep, watching the merchant closely.  


Theron climbed into the wagon and proceeded take anything they needed. After a short while, Theron had all he needed and slid back out of the wagon. He called Fen’nas over and the two returned to the bickering humans who were unaware he had left in the first place.  


* * *

They had barely entered the tavern when a group of soldiers walked up to them. “Well, look what we have here, men. I think we’ve just been blessed,” the leader laughed.  


“Uh-oh. Loghain’s men. This can’t be good,” Alistair warned.  


“Didn’t we spend all morning asking about an elf by this very description? And everyone said they hadn’t seen one?” Another soldier asked.  


“It seems we were lied to,” the leader assumed.  


A red-haired woman in Chantry robes walked over to them. “Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge,” she reasoned.  


“They’re more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them,” the leader advised.  


“You best stay back,” Theron advised, “they blindly follow their master’s orders. I doubt they would spare anyone they think is in their way.”  


“I am not the blind one! I served at Ostagar, where the teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens’ treachery! I serve him gladly!” The leader defended, “enough talk. Take the Warden into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else who gets in the way.”  


Theron sighed and drew his bow. Alistair nearly shouted a warning to remind the elf he had no arrows only to stop when he realized Theron’s quiver was full. Where did he get those? Alistair wondered, but it would have to wait; there were more pressing matters.  


It did not take long for the soldiers to realize they were greatly outmatched. “All right, you’ve won, we surrender!” The soldiers dropped their weapons and raised their empty hands.  


“Good,” the sister smiled, “they’ve learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now.”  


Theron shouldered his bow and walked over to the leader. “Send a message to your master, Shemlen.”  


“What message?” He quaked.  


“The Grey Wardens know what really happened.”  


“I’ll tell him. Right away. Now. Thank you!” He stammered and the remaining soldiers ran from the tavern.  


The Sister walked up to Theron. “I apologize for interfering, but I couldn’t just sit idly by and not help.”  


“I appreciate what you tried to do,” Theron nodded.  


“I’m glad you found it in your heart to offer those men mercy. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was,” she introduced.  


“Neral. I am Theron,” he returned.  


“It’s ‘pleasure’,” Morrigan corrected from somewhere behind him.  


“They said you were a Grey Warden. I’m surprised you’re an elf, but elves must want the Blight defeated as much as humans, no?” She stated.  


Theron’s eyes narrowed at the statement. Great, another clueless human.  


“I know after what happened, you will need all the help you can get. That’s why I’m coming along,” she continued.  


“You know the stories about my order. Why so eager to come along?” He asked.  


“The Maker told me to,” she replied simply.  


The elf blinked and he could hear Morrigan and Alistair both snort quietly behind him. “Could you…elaborate?” He inquired.  


“I know that sounds…absolutely insane-but it’s true! I had a dream…a vision!” She explained.  


“More crazy? I thought we were all full up,” Alistair commented and looked pointedly at Morrigan.  


“Not now, either of you,” Theron ordered before Morrigan could deliver her no doubt scathing retort.  


“Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos…will spread. The Maker doesn’t want this,” Leliana persisted, “what you do, what you are **meant** to do, is the Maker’s work. Let me help!”  


Theron rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head in thought, pinching his nose when the two humans behind him began snickering again. “Very well, I will not turn away help when it is offered.”  


“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought,” Morrigan mused.  


“Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down,” Leliana smiled, ignoring Morrigan.  


* * *

Leliana was adjusting the leather armour Theron had “borrowed” from the merchant. He had planned to use it himself, but decided their newest companion needed it more than he did. Besides, when they stopped for the night he would get started turning the skins he got from those bears into leather for his own armour. “This is the armour that merchant was selling,” Leliana commented, “how were you able to afford it?”  


“Not just that, how were you able to convince him to sell you anything in the first place?” Alistair asked, eyeing the arrows.  


“You saw earlier how persuasive I can be,” Theron shrugged.  


“That wasn’t persuasion. You had Fen here knock him to the ground and stand on his chest,” Alistair pointed out.  


“And it persuaded him to lower his prices,” Theron remarked.  


“Fine. Be evasive,” the warrior pouted. The blonde nearly ran into Theron when the elf stopped without warning. The elf hadn’t even noticed. He was too busy pay attention to whatever sound had caught his attention.  


Leliana watched in fascination as the elf’s ears tilted towards whatever he was listening to. She was about to say something when the hunter started moving again…towards the cage holding the murderous Qunari.  


Theron stopped in front of the cage and stared up at the dark-skinned giant. The Dalish was confused on what this creature was. He obviously wasn’t a human, but that was all he knew.  


The praying giant stopped when he realized he had an audience. “You aren’t one of my captors.”  


“I remember the Revered Mother mentioning this man. She called him a savage from the far north,” Leliana explained. Theron tensed at the word “savage”.  


“I have nothing to say that would amuse you, elf. Leave me in peace,” the giant sighed.  


“What are you?” Theron asked, head tilted as he tried to figure out what the man before him was.  


“A prisoner,” was the deadpan response. “I am in a cage, am I not? I was placed here by the Chantry.”  


“The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children,” Leliana informed.  


“It is as she says,” the giant nodded. “I am Sten of the Beresaad-the vanguard- of the Qunari peoples.”  


“Qunari?” Theron asked.  


“If you haven’t heard of us, that is your own shortcoming,” the giant sighed, “though it matters little now. I will die soon enough.”  


“This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the Darkspawn. If you can not see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy’s sake alone,” Morrigan offered.  


At least someone is willing to tell what a “Qunari” is…sort of. Theron griped.  


“Mercy?” Alistair’s eyebrows disappeared into his helmet, “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”  


“I would also suggest Alistair take his place in the cage,” she finished.  


“Yes, that’s what I would have expected,” the warrior snorted.  


“I suggest you leave me to my fate,” the giant proposed.  


Theron studied the Qunari. There may be no trees around to tell him, but he knew the look of someone seeking to atone. “You know, there are other ways to seek atonement,” he offered.  


“Perhaps. What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?” The giant asked.  


“You could help me defend the land against the Blight,” Theron propositioned.  


“The Blight?” The giant seemed to perk up a bit at that, “then you are a Grey Warden?”  


“Yes, I am,” the elf nodded.  


“Surprising,” the caged man stated, “my people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens strength and skill…though I suppose not every legend is true.”  


“I wonder if the Revered Mother would let you free,” Theron mused.  


“Perhaps,” the giant agreed, “if you informed her the Grey Wardens' need my assistance. It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here.”  


“To be left here to starve, or to be taken by the Darkspawn…no one deserves that, not even a murderer,” Leliana shook her head.  


“Grey Wardens are not very popular right now,” the elf commented and approached the lock on the cage. “I doubt she would agree and I don’t think I can persuade her like I did that merchant.”  


“You are not siccing Fen on the Revered Mother!” Alistair demanded.  


Theron shot him a look and knelt to get a better look at the lock, “I’m not.”  


“Oh. That’s good then,” Alistair nodded, “wait, what are you doing?”  


“Picking the lock. Now be quiet,” the elf ordered. With a few quick gestures with his picks, the Qunari was free.  


Sten stepped out of the cage. “So it is done. I will follow you into battle. In doing so I shall find my atonement,” he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i) Generals or commanders of the Archdemon’s army during the Blight. Hurlocks come from Broodmothers that were once human  
> (ii) Darkspawn born of Dwarven Broodmothers  
> (iii) Zathrian’s clan doesn’t have a name so I gave it one. Briathos was an Emerald Knight that helped keep Chantry missionaries and Templars away from the Dales border. It seemed fitting this clan take the name


End file.
